‘I’ve done this before,’ he answered, as he made the animal fast. ‘I know the ways of the place well enough. But surely you’re not here in absolute solitude?’
‘Yes, I am. I prefer being alone at present.’
‘Very unhealthy, I must say! You will grow hypochondriacal if you mope in this fashion,’ he returned, following me up-stairs to my room.
‘A day or two of solitude now and then would, I suspect, do most people more good than harm,’ I answered. ‘But you must not think I intend leading a hermit’s life. Have you heard that my aunt—?’
‘Yes, yes.—You are left alone in the world. But relations are not a man’s only friends—and certainly not always his best friends.’
I made no reply, thinking of my uncle.
‘I did not know you were down,’ he resumed. ‘I was calling at my father’s, and seeing your light across the park, thought it possible you might be here, and rode over to see. May I take the liberty of asking what your plans are?’ he added, seating himself by the fire.
‘I have hardly had time to form new ones; but I mean to stick to my work, anyhow.’
‘You mean your profession?’
‘Yes, if you will allow me to call it such. I have had success enough already to justify me in going on.’